


a desperate suit

by Engineer104



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ...yeah i have no idea how to tag this, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Fluff, Immortals, Suggestive Themes, basically Lance has to convince Pidge to marry him, for magical invasion reasons, for now, just Pidge, just a bit, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 18:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Prince Lotor sends Lance to fulfill an impossible task:  marry or murder an immortal guardian.





	a desperate suit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rueitae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/gifts).



> this is the result of a brainstorming session with [Rue](https://rueitae.tumblr.com/) and i don't quite know what it is BUT it's something and i had fun so have at it ~~because i hope you'll enjoy it too~~

Lance’s reputation and ambitions are worth little in the face of the diminutive yet imposing young woman that stands before him. She towers over him in all but stature, the shadow she casts through the hall long, her soft lips twisted into a scowl, eyes blazing with…something.

A strength misunderstood, a power unknown - but undoubtedly dangerous.

The Guardian of the Gateway is not, Lance comes to understand all too quickly, a being to be trifled with.

He swallows the bile rising in his throat, fails to still the pounding of his heart in the face of a woman that looks more predating animal than human with her fangs sharper than a lion’s.

Or so Lance imagines, for her reputation barely did her justice.

* * *

“Beauty beyond compare,” James recited as if from a song or story he heard long before their forced march.

“Cunning beyond belief,” Ryan added, nodding along with his compatriot.

“What lies at the end of the lands of man?” James continued, a skip entering his step in familiarity and a grin tugging at his lips.

“The Gateway, the Guardian, the _demon_!”

“What lies _beyond_ the realm of man?”

“Goblins, and ghouls, and lions, and fiends!”

“But none worse than the Guardian, most fearsome of these!”

And then they laughed, because no one believed it - not even when they finally laid eyes on the great Gateway that bridged the river valley from end to end, so high Lance had to tilt his head back and _still_ couldn’t spot the top.

Prince Lotor’s army halted at the feet of the Gateway, his architects poring over it, searching for the best way to circumvent if not outright destroy it. During the rare downtime, Lance and his company inspected it for themselves, curious…because the size wasn’t half so impressive as the carvings inlaid into the stone.

“It doesn’t look like a gate,” Lance mused once while running a fingertip over a carving of a great tree. Its roots protruded at the base of the Gateway, and he fancied the carving was deep enough he could find hand and footholds to climb it as if it was a true tree.

Did it span the whole Gateway? Could they pass through climbing? One of Prince Lotor’s men attempted such a feat on one of their first days.

A week later, and they had yet to hear from him again.

“You’re right,” Hunk agreed from beside him. “It looks more like a dam.” He scraped his feet over the crumbled, stony ground - old, gray volcanic rock telling of a different era. “I’d guess there’s a river or a reservoir on the other side.”

“But who built it?” Lance wondered. “There’s no way…” He trailed off, eyes wide as a shiver travels up his spine. His head whipped around, inspecting the open landscape around them. “Did you…hear something, Hunk?”

Hunk eyed him, frowning. “No,” he said, “but there is a bit of an echo in the valley. Someone could’ve been shouting back at camp.”

“I suppose,” he conceded, unsure if he believed it.

But when Hunk led the way back to camp, Lance failed to resist the temptation to glance back at the hulking behemoth behind them. The shadow it cast swallowed them and the camp long before sunset, but he still felt invisible eyes trained on his back.

* * *

The Guardian isn’t cruel or even malicious once her predator stance relaxes, but she’s no less angry with his - Prince Lotor’s army’s - trespass.

“And why, pray tell, does your prince wish to pass through my Gate with an _army_?” the Guardian demands.

 _Not my prince,_ Lance can’t help thinking resentfully. But he sighs, the shackles he consented to wearing clinking as he rests his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’m not exactly privy to all of His Highness’s royal plans.”

(He can hazard a guess, with an army that large, but he doubts the Guardian will hear him out if he voices it.)

“So he sends you - a man who knows not his ambitions - to convince me to allow him passage through my Gate?” The Guardian snorts, an oddly endearing and human sound that makes the hairs on the back of Lance’s neck prickle. She rounds on him, her emerald earrings flashing in the torchlight, and rests her hands on her hips. “I know something of how men work,” she says, “so I wonder, what is it you and His Highness have to offer me?”

* * *

Prince Lotor himself summoned Lance to his command tent one night while contemplating the Gateway. He kept his face as blank as he possibly could and, despite his racing heart, was proud of how calm he sounded when he called from outside, “You wished to see me, Your Highness?”

“Yes, come in.”

Lance ducked under the tent flap. Flickering candlelight illuminated the broad interior, maps strewn over the desk and weighted down with half-empty wine copper cups and a cruel-looking short black dagger.

Lotor sat alone on a chair amid the fabric and furnishings, sword sheathed at his side and not looking the least bit relaxed or tired despite the late hour. His eyes were fixed on a letter while a quill stained with ink sat in his hand, and he didn’t spare a glance for Lance.

Lance shifted from foot to foot, waiting to be noticed for too long. A spark of irritation did away with his gut-wrenching apprehension - why did the prince call him here if he was just going to make him wait?

At last Lotor set down his quill, clasped his hands on the desk, and looked to Lance. “Please,” he said, nodding towards the flimsy chair across from him, “take a seat.”

Lance tried not to let his shock at being treated civilly by his “better” show; what next, would the prince himself offer him a drink? But he accepted the chair and, tired of waiting, dared to wonder, “What did you want?”

“Because you have anything better to do this evening besides sit around a campfire with your peers and tell tales of what you believe to be on the other side of the Gateway?” Prince Lotor scoffed with a lazy roll of his eyes, and Lance decided he liked him even less. “Well, I will tell you that we will never find out until we pass through.” He smirked, looking awfully smug for a commander forced to sit and wait.

“And how…are we going to do that?” Lance asked, before his eyes widened and he pressed a finger to his chest. “Wait, what does it all have to do with _me_?”

Prince Lotor toyed with the edge of a map, half of which was blank, waiting to be filled with the newly charted territory beyond the Gateway. “The legends say the Guardian reverts to a mortal woman if a mortal man seduces and marries her,” he explained. “With no Guardian at the Gateway, the physical barrier opens for longer than those few minutes the magical barrier falters at sunset.”

“Wait, it _opens_ —”

“—for a few minutes at sunset, yes.” The prince waved a hand, dismissing any other questions Lance could ask because _why had he sent a scout_ up _the Gateway if he could_ _’ve sent a few through it?_ “In any case, the magical barrier isn’t reestablished until after the former Guardian’s eldest daughter by her lover or husband takes her place, but until such a fated child’s birth there is time aplenty for us to complete our travel beyond the Gateway.

“So…you ask what this has to do with you”—Prince Lotor’s eyes narrowed—”but I ask if you are up to the task.”

“What task?” Lance said, though he had a creeping suspicion he knew the answer.

“You are not highborn, I think, but surely you are aware of the concept of arranging marriages?”

Lance’s eyebrow climbed to his forehead of its own accord. “I suppose,” he said, “but—”

“I wish to arrange a marriage between you and the Guardian of the Gateway.”

His jaw dropped, a million or more questions rising to his head but refusing to fall from his tongue. And what _could_ he ask? _You want me to marry an immortal being so that she_ _’ll be mortal just so you can pass through a Gateway?_

The complaints came next, and at last Lance eked out, “But I don’t know her, much less _love_ her.”

Lotor smiled, and if Lance didn’t know any better he’d think it looked regretful. “Oh, you think you need to love someone to marry them? How naive.”

He stiffened, unable to keep a slight scowl from twisting his lips at the condescension. “Then why me?” he demanded in as mild a tone as he could manage.

(He didn’t dare to ask, _Why not_ you _?_ )

Lotor wound a few strands of his impractically long hair around a finger. “You are a, what is the word, charmer of women?” He smirked, awfully pleased with his logic.

Lance thought back to Nadia’s ironic laughter and the sting of Jenny’s hand against his cheek. He’d been lucky Plaxum deigned to kiss him after one drink too many on both their parts, and what he interpreted as interest from Nyma led to her pinching his favorite knife.

But it didn’t do to deny Lotor, not with him smiling like a cat with a mouse trapped between its paws or his own heart racing with renewed apprehension. So he plastered a grin onto his face and agreed, “Of course! I’m just surprised you knew, Your Highness.”

“I am aware of what goes on within and without my army’s camp,” Prince Lotor informed him mildly. “I would not be a capable commander if I did not.”

Lance’s lip twitched with a retort he dared not spout. “Then…what would you have me do?”

Lotor stood, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. “Charm the Guardian however you see fit,” he said. “I understand the option is unsavory to you, but I require a good man to convince her to wed him, and I believe you are the man for the job.”

Lance did _not_ preen at the indirect praise; what was Lotor’s praise worth anyway? But he did allow a slight smile to creep onto his lips and…well, maybe immortal women weren’t so immune to his charm.

(But his chest still tightened with renewed worry; he wasn’t _ready_ to bind his life to another’s, and what if he earned worse from the Guardian than a slap or stolen knife?)

Prince Lotor seemed to sense his concern, for he said, “It is enough that she allow you into her presence even if she refuses the…peaceful option.”

Lance swallowed as a shiver traveled up his spine. “What if I don’t want to do this?”

“You will be disgraced and branded as a deserter bound for execution,” Lotor said so mildly he might’ve been telling Lance what they would eat for breakfast. “Failure is, of course, not an option, but if - nay, _when_ you succeed, you will be haled as the hero who opened the Gateway to humanity’s destiny!”

It all sounded very grand, especially aided by a wide, sweeping gesture, but Lotor’s threat echoed through Lance’s ears. His gut turned - so it was to be dead or wed for him?

Lance’s heart skipped a beat as he licked his lips. “And if _she_ refuses?”

“Kill her,” Lotor pronounced without batting an eye. He picks up the black dagger and holds it out to Lance. “If she dies - if her line ends - the magic dies with her and the Gateway remains open forever. It is said even the carvings will fade and the stone itself will crumble.” He sighed and almost looked sorry - and Lance, disgusted despite himself, almost believed it. “What a tragedy for something so beautiful to die with her.”

* * *

Lance laughs and hopes it lacks a nervous edge. “What offer, Your Guardianship?” he asks. “I only wished to see your beauty for myself. Why else would I have come alone?”

The Guardian’s thick eyebrow twitches. “Flattery?” She snorts, tossing her head back so that her impressive mane of honey hair flies over her shoulder. “You believe no man has ever tried to charm me? Spare me.”

Lance refuses to be deterred; he’s persisted - to his shame - with women that proved more stubborn. He rests his chin in his hand (ignoring the shackles) and smiles. “But you _are_ beautiful, my lady,” he tells her, and means it. The little light passing through the windows crowns her with gold, and her green-and-silver robes flatter her petite frame. “And brilliant too, I’m sure,” he adds for good measure. “The shelves in these halls are filled with books you must’ve read, and how else would you have guarded the realm beyond the Gateway as long as you have?”

The Guardian blinks, lips parting in surprise. “No one has—” she cuts herself off with a shake of her head before her eyes sharpen into a glare that makes Lance’s heart jump into his throat. “You think to win me over for your master with your pretty words and pretty face?”

“No, of course—” But then _her_ words greet his ears before he can offer another compliment or reassurance. Heat rises to his face, and he blurts, “You think _I_ have a ‘pretty face’?”

She steps away from him with her eyes wide, her own cheeks filling with color in an awfully human and endearing way. “I—of course not—you think—I am not entirely immune to a man’s charms!” she finally settles on, her voice high and anxious. “But that does not mean I will acquiesce to your master’s demands.” She crosses her arms, recovering her poise though her face is no less red, and adds, “It takes more than a few kind words and an…agreeable profile to convince me to open the Gateway, much less for an _army_.”

Lance sighs, and for all his obstinacy he’s starting to agree that the Guardian will not be swayed. A new plan unfolds in his head - he _really_ doesn’t want to kill her if she refuses him, and he has no doubt Lotor will send soldiers happier to do his bidding than him if he fails - so he kneels at her sandaled feet. “I do not wish to simply charm and seduce you so that you’ll open the Gateway at my request,” he confesses. When she meets his eyes with her own wide in surprise, he takes her small, warm hand - softer but no less strong than his own - in both of his and says, “I wish to ask for your hand in marriage, to help you secure your line.” _And life,_ he adds to himself.

He wonders if the Guardian can look any more shocked, with her jaw dropping almost comically. She no longer resembles any kind of predator but a woman startled and…confused.

“You…do not know what you ask,” she finally says after the heart-pounding moment drags for too long. She gently tugs her hand from his grasp, and he takes it as permission to rise again to his feet.

“Of course I do!” Lance insists. “If I marry you, you—”

“I will no longer be the Guardian,” she explains, her eyes on some distant point beyond him, “and the Gateway remains open until I bear a daughter that you father.” Her gaze snaps back to his face, a hint of anger replacing it. “You led an army—”

“It’s not _my_ army!”

“—to the Gateway, and you expect me to weaken it enough to allow it passage?” She grabs the chain on his shackles, tugging her towards him until he’s so close he feels her warm breath on his chin and can watch her pupils dilate. “I am not a mortal maiden to be so swayed! The lands of men teem with war like they didn’t when my mother accepted my mortal father, so if you think—”

“Your mother?” Suddenly the wide, echoing, poorly lit hall is even larger and emptier than before.

The Guardian lets him go and shoves him away, but he doesn’t stumble. “I am not the first Guardian of the Gateway,” she tells him with a stubborn jut to her chin, “and I won’t be the last.” Her eyes narrow and she softly adds, “But it is not for you and your master to decide when I will take a man to bed.”

Heat floods Lance’s cheeks. He raises his bound hands defensively and sputters, “W-who said anything about taking me to bed? And Prince Lotor is _not_ my master.”

“But he _is_ the one who sent you through the Gateway seeking my hand, did he not?”

Lance scowls and retorts, “I’m still my own man.”

(And a dead one come sunset if she continued to refuse him.)

“Then why are you so willing to be bound to my side for the rest of your life?” the Guardian wonders, her tone openly curious. She crosses her arms, an eyebrow raised while she frowns almost thoughtfully.

“Is that…not how marriage is?” Lance says dumbly.

“Not like this,” the Guardian tells him with a heavy sigh. “Where I go, so must you, and before our daughter is grown - whether I am the Guardian or your mortal wife - I cannot leave the Gateway.” Her gaze drifts to the floor, her fingers wrapping around her elbow as she almost folds in on herself. “So it was with my mother long ago, and so it will be with me.”

Is that…longing he hears in her voice? Perhaps not a longing for a husband - or at least not one like him, who comes with an invading army at his back - but for a family…and for escape.

The Guardian’s eyes snap up to his face. “What of your family?” she says, softer than a whisper. “You would lose your freedom, at least for a time.”

Lance opens his mouth, a response on the tip of his tongue, only for a wave of bitterness to force its way out first. “Lotor set me up,” he realizes. But he swallows, shoving it away, because now the Guardian looks less a fearsome, protective being and more a vulnerable, lonely woman. “If you marry me, then neither of us will be alone.”

The Guardian, to his surprise, laughs, though there’s no hint of humor in the sound. “What if we hate each other?” she wonders.

“I don’t hate most people,” Lance reassures her. He waves a hand and says, “You may be an immortal Guardian, but I’m sure we have some things in common.” He hums, thinking, before a grin tugs at his lips. “I see you like reading…and I like stories so you can read to me.” When the Guardian only stares at him - thoughtfully, he hopes, for she does not contradict him - it emboldens him to continue, “I like horseback riding - though I guess we can’t do that here”—he grimaces—”but I enjoy stargazing on moonless nights, and swimming, and I’m not as much of a cook as my friend Hunk, but I can—”

“I too enjoy stargazing,” the Guardian interrupts him with a slight smile that stirs something warm and pleasant in Lance’s chest. “There are no villages on either side of the Gateway for miles, so the view every night is…stunning, no matter how long I live.”

The longer she speaks with a faraway gaze upon her face, the more hope kindles in Lance.

”My mortal father too was a—”

But then she seems to remember herself, her face darkening instantly as she demands, “What if you come to resent me because you cannot leave so long as I cannot, or if I come to resent you for stripping me and the Gateway of our magic?” She turns her back to him, a stubborn set to her shoulders. “We both lose too much to take such a risk, and never mind that army! I am no fool to—”

“Prince Lotor commanded me to kill you if you refused,” Lance confesses, one last-ditch attempt to convince her. When she spins around to stare at him, her eyebrow quirking more with curiosity than with fear, he fumbles for the black dagger hidden in his coat and shows it to her.

She instantly recoils, her lips twisting and spine stiffening, eyes wide with unmistakable fear. “Get that—get that away from me!”

“This?” Lance raises it, his shackles restrictive if not debilitating as they clink, echoing throughout the hall. “It’s…” The dagger is black, as smooth and brittle as glass - pretty but not especially useful in his mind. But from the way the Guardian steps back, he doesn’t doubt that it’s dangerous to her.

“It’s obsidian,” the Guardian tells him, her tone as detached and clinical as a tactician. “Frozen flame. It…my magic is not…compatible.” Her fingers at her sides curl and uncurl, and for an instant she looks like a cornered animal.

Her gaze never once drifts from the dagger.

Lance eyes the dagger with renewed suspicion, anger at Lotor inflaming his blood. “I’m not an assassin,” he mutters half to himself. “I’m just a boy from a farming village that wanted to be a hero.”

He never wanted to force an immortal woman to marry him, much less kill her, but his own life…

The Guardian’s eyes slip shut before a heavy sigh escapes her. “How long did your m— _commander_ give you t-to either marry or kill me?”

“Until the next sunset,” Lance tells her. He smiles slightly, a touch of humor in his voice as he shrugs and adds, “I’m to wed and bed you before then, if you’ll have me.”

“And if you do not, you kill me?”

“I or whoever Lotor sends after me when I fail to,” Lance says, because he _will_ fail, he realizes with dawning clarity while his heart skips a beat.

Somehow that knowledge doesn’t scare him as much as it ought to.

“So what do you have to lose by marrying me?” Lance wonders. He offers her his hand, his shackles going with it, and adds, “We both die if you don’t.”

The Guardian’s gaze falls to his hand before rising to hold his. “I lose the Gateway to an invading army,” she tells him simply.

“You lose it if you die too,” Lance says with an awful, regretful smile. His chest tightens, stomach twisting with guilt. “Your line ends then, and the Gateway will fall for good without your line to protect it.”

Her eyes flick from side to side, her lip between teeth that no longer look like fangs, and his heart pounds ever faster while he waits for her decision. “Your commander is as mortal as you are,” she finally says, “and as mortal as I soon will be.” Her jaw sets, and her gaze hardens. “I will not be so helpless as you think.”

Lance’s eyes widen, but her determination - and a solution in sight that will spare them both - captivates him. “What do you have in mind, my lady?” he breathes.

The Guardian’s mouth curls into a smirk that sends a pleasant tremor down his spine. She cups his cheek with a warm hand, forcing him to tilt his head down so he can better meet her darkening eyes, and murmurs, “Come to bed with me, husband. We can speak of sabotage come morning.”

Lance doesn’t have it in him to question her before her lips seal his in a passionate kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> liked my nonsense?? leave a comment please <3


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